


We Looked Like Giants

by retts



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, Incest, M/M, Pre-Movie, Slash, Twisted relationships are twisted, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retts/pseuds/retts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Then he turned to face the enemy spilling out into the battlefield and Loki took a step closer to his brother, nearly shoulder to shoulder but not quite standing next to him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	We Looked Like Giants

When Loki momentarily lost his footing after a wicked blow, it was Thor who grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him right back up. It was long enough of a distraction for one of the enemy warriors to nearly stab Thor through the stomach if Mjolnir hadn't swung right back to hit the opponent on the back of his head. With one bloody hand clutching Mjolnir, he used his other to draw Loki in close. Thor's eyes glittered with rage. "Are you alright?" Thor all but roared at Loki's face, too caught up in battle fever to lower his voice.

For a moment, Loki reveled in Thor's glory: his strength, his protective concern, his sheer joy in the midst of battle. Then he shrugged Thor's touch away, even if his head rang like the sound of metal hitting metal, and gave a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, of course, don't mind me."

Thor gave him a wide, toothy smile -- one of a bloodthirsty warrior having the time of his life. "Good, because things just got interesting."

Then he turned to face the enemy spilling out into the battlefield and Loki took a step closer to his brother, nearly shoulder to shoulder but not quite standing next to him.

 

 

There was much merriment that night, mostly by the nobles who celebrated the victory as if it had been their hands that had struck the enemy back to the hellhole they had come from. Thor was in the middle of the celebration, the glorious Odinson, fawned over by the ladies and lords. Thor drank his mead heartily, showing no signs of exhaustion, and smiled at the beautiful women who vied for his attention. His voice carried down the hall to where Loki sat in a quiet corner, sipping his drink calmly. Thor was telling tales again -- grand feats that should be impossible if it had been anyone but Thor who had done them. Odin sat at the head of the long table, untroubled by the loudness and blatant flirting going on right in front of his one solemn eye. He was speaking with Frigga but there was a slight smile at his mouth that meant he was also listening to Thor's stories and approved of them.

His brother was a kind-hearted man, Loki knew, but all too often it was eclipsed by blood lust. He had been raised as a warrior, then a King almost as an afterthought, and Loki could not help but resent that. Much as he loved his older brother, Loki did not want to follow a King who wanted to spend most of his time in the battlefield. Loki did not want to follow anyone at all.

"Why, Loki, here you are looking rightly glum!" declared an obviously intoxicated Fandral as he sat down next to Loki and slung a careless arm round his shoulders. Loki did not tense but he gave Fandral a cool stare that promised the wickedest punishment for his daring.

Fandral the Dashing merely laughed and waved his goblet in the air, nearly upending his drink all over the shimmering gown of a passing lady. "Look there, see, what a beauty!" Fandral gave the woman a wink and laughed once more when she flounced off in irritation. "Ah, what a shame. I think she would have fancied you, Loki Odinson. Come now, chin up, we've won with all our limbs still intact. Thor would be upset if he thought you were not having a grand time!"

And it was true: Thor _would_ frown and demand why in Asgard's name Loki was not enjoying himself -- that is, if Thor would take the time to look up from where he was whispering into the ear of a giggling blond.

"My enjoyment is my own business, Fandral," said Loki, setting his cup down on the table. He stood up smoothly, brushing his fingers down his clothes.

"That does sound interesting, Loki. Do tell me more."

Loki eyed him dubiously. "I sincerely doubt you could please me, Fandral. I do have standards, unlike some who would lie with any breathing thing. By the by, how is that steed of yours?"

Fandral's lips quirked but his eyes grew shuttered. "That sharp tongue of yours will get you into serious trouble someday, Loki. I believe Thor has said that more than once."

"And it will get me just as easily out of trouble," Loki said dismissively and turned away. He was growing tired of the festivities and longed for the silence and solitude of his own chambers. On any other night, he would be amongst the guests, charming them in his own quiet way or perhaps pulling some mischief or two and blaming it on Thor (no, Fandral, most certainly), but not tonight.

Odin gave him permission when Loki made his leave. His father gave him a penetrating stare for a moment, and then nodded his head. Loki took one last look at Thor and went out of the hall, unnoticed.

 

 

Another battle, and another, and another, until they all blended into a haze of red and the red rush of haziness. Loki's muscles ached with exertion and his magic was tested -- not to its limits, but its deadliness. His breathing was the heaviest sound in his ears. Power crackled at Loki's fingertips.

Not far from him was Thor, laughing from the very depths of his soul, swinging Mjolnir in the sky and on the ground, calling forth thunder and lightning. Loki rode the cracking of the ground and the lashing of rain. He was used to the chaos that came with fighting next to his brother. Loki's senses were wild and focused, a contradiction found only in the heat of battle. He was not so lost in fighting like the others, like Thor, and his composure has saved him from many serious injuries in the past.

But he was not glad of this. He was not content that Thor kept dragging him into needless battle. Loki knew that their father indulged Thor's love for fighting, but this was going too far.

The enemy was advancing. They were persistent, more so than the others, and Loki could see the tide of battle changing against their favour. He inched closer to Thor, throwing magic from his hand that knocked out a warrior intent on taking his brother from behind. More and more and more of them were coming. Soon there were enough of them that not even Thor could escape this one so effortlessly. Loki decided it was time to intervene.

Thor didn't even pause for breath from one attack to the next, spinning Mjolnir until the hammer was nothing but a blur, before throwing it to take out three-four-five-six men in succession.

"Thor!" yelled Loki, voice barely carrying in the noise. He could not bellow like his brother. "Thor, we need to go!"

"Nonsense!" Thor laughed, as if it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "A warrior never retreats!"

"Well, it's time to change that," and finally Loki was close enough to place a hand on Thor's tense arm. "If we don't leave now, we will be defeated in the most humiliating way. Perhaps even killed. Thor, _listen to me._ "

Thor grasped the handle of his hammer and raised it to the sky, drawing lightning down to crisp his adversaries. He turned to Loki, eyes ablaze, and sneered, "Who are you to tell me what to do? I am Thor Odinson, and you still dare!"

And it hurt. Loki acknowledged it, for a moment examined it with fascination, and then pushed it away.

"For this time, you will _listen_ to me, because I will not let you get us killed," said Loki in a quiet but forceful voice, his gaze piercing, disappointed. The sneer lifted Thor's lips once more but he did not argue back, merely turned around and struck the ground in such fury that tore it, and the men standing on it, apart.

"Call for Heimdall!" Loki shouted at Volstagg, who was carrying a wounded Fandal on his shoulder (Thor never even noticed). Volstagg hesitated long enough for an enemy to jump at him but Sif threw a knife straight at his heart. Then Bifrost opened, cradling them in blinding light, and all Loki heard was the rush of transportation.

 

 

Thor was violent when faced with his enemies and expensive furniture has been sacrificed in the face of his rage. But he was rarely, if ever, violent when it came to Loki.

The hurt came flashing back when Thor pushed him furiously against the wall. Loki's back hit the nearby pillar and his body went as still as his mind when Thor leant into him, snarling and all over blood. The smell of copper and sweat was disgusting and Loki turned his head slightly away, only for Thor to grasp his chin in one big hand to keep it where it was.

"You dared to command me in my own battlefield," growled Thor as he pushed his face even closer to Loki's. His eyes were terrifyingly blue. Loki could break free any time he wanted, use his tricks to stumble Thor back, daze him, hurt him. Loki kept still. "You've gone too far this time, brother. You should learn your proper place."

Loki lowered his gaze so Thor would not see the resentment that flared at those words. Not yet. (He does not mean it, he does not know what he's saying, his mind is still in the battle: Loki would not make excuses for his brother this time.)

He was Loki, second son of Odin, and his rightful place -- his rightful place, where was it?

His chin was forced upwards, eyes caught by Thor's glittering ones. "You will look at me when I am speaking to you, dammit!"

Then Thor was kissing him, sucking all the air out of Loki's lungs, bruising the tender skin of Loki's mouth. He gasped, fingers digging into the blood-slick links of Thor's chainmail covering his arm. Loki's mouth fell open and Thor angrily pushed his tongue inside, tasting and claiming and winning what he hadn't been able to do in the battlefield. Loki felt like he was being crushed against the wall, his brother so heavy above him, and he made a sound that could have been despair or joy.

Loki hated Thor. Loki loved him desperately.

Thor pulled back and Loki could instantly see on Thor's face that the kiss had been nothing, had been a punishment, maybe, now to be forgotten as an insignificant thing compared to Loki's earlier defiance.

"Go have a bath," Thor snapped, already moving away, "you stink of blood and failure."

Only when Thor was out of the room did Loki allow his trembling legs to give way and he slid down to the floor. He touched his fingers to his sore lips and came away with blood. Loki gave a rueful chuckle. If Thor wanted battle, then he would have one. _The Frost Giants should do nicely_ , Loki thought, his fingers fumbling at his trousers to get to his aching cock.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a prompt in norsekink wherein Loki was turned on by Thor's brave, violent, macho heroism. Clearly, the story went in a different direction.


End file.
